


Screaming for the Dead

by Royalwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Black Romance, Grief, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royalwriter/pseuds/Royalwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Eridan Ampora and your kismesis died almost half a sweep ago. Despite that, it's only now that the grief is setting in, only now that you're remembering just how much you miss him and how much you need him and his stupid arrogant smirk back. You're just now realizing that you miss him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screaming for the Dead

  He was gone. He was fucking gone and it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair none of it was fair. He was gone and for the first time in your entire miserable existence you despise the fact that you’re a highblood. What was always a mark of pride, something that there could be no downsides to has suddenly shown its killer flaw. Being a high blood means you’re going to outlive everyone you care about. And the way it fucking showed itself was by taking him and you have cursed every power that there is and the horror terrors and anything that you can possibly think of because you just want him back. You just want him to come back.

            You still remember finding him. It seems impossible that you could ever forget that image that you could ever bleach that night out of your brain. Waking up and going to shove him awake, going to talk to him to drag him out of the slime, to do something. And the second you realized that he felt cold. That he felt colder than a land dweller ever should be and you panicked. You panicked and you dragged him out of the slime and he didn’t complain he didn’t say one fucking word he didn’t even move. By this point you were screaming his name and the sobs were starting but you didn’t care if he saw you cry even though he would never let you live it down because he couldn’t be dead he couldn’t be. You remember when you realized that he was. That he would never breath again, that he would never talk in that obnoxious lispy voice ever again. You miss his voice, you never thought that you could miss his voice but you do. You miss the way that it set your teeth on edge, the way that it made you want to wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze. You miss it so badly it’s like a black void in your chest.

            You didn’t sleep or eat or do anything for the first nights after he died. You sat there and wandered around your hive and you cried. You cried more then you will ever fucking admit and you kept expecting him to appear from around the corner pissed off about something. You kept expecting to trip over his shitty computer cords and for him to start swearing at you for disturbing some new project or another. But there were no new cords for you to trip over, only the ones that you had left because you couldn’t bear to unplug them. And when you did trip there was no Sol to swear and you and you couldn’t swear back, couldn’t start arguing and dueling with him and it was just so wrong. He should have been there, he should have been there to scream at you.

            You couldn’t bring yourself to change anything in his respite block. Despite having sworn so many times that when he was gone you would finally clean up his shit you just couldn’t do it. Because doing it would be like accepting that he was gone, that the last fucking good thing you had going was gone.

            You know how pathetic it is to hope that this is all just some pathetic attempt to get to you that he thought up but you don’t care at this point, you can’t care. It doesn’t matter what the reason was as long as he wasn’t really gone.

            You look up and realize that you’re in his respite block again. You’ve been doing that more and more often lately, finding yourself in his room without realizing that your legs had lead you there. This time is when it really hits you though. His scent is fading from the room, it’s almost gone and you’re suddenly terrified that when it finally vanishes you won’t be able to remember, that you’ll forget the adrenaline that rushed through you when you fought, that you’ll forget how much he used to piss you off. Already the filthy mess that his room is has stopped making you angry, now it just increases the horrible ache in your chest.

            You crumble down to the floor bit by bit, at first you’re just bending down and then you’re on your knees and you’re clutching a shirt of his to your face and breathing it in, desperately trying to find something there. You start to talk, not caring about the logical part of your brain that tells you that he’s never coming back, that he’s gone for good and people don’t just come back from the dead because he can’t be dead it’s not fair.

            “Sol, Sol god damn it come back here. You ginormous douchebag come back I didn’t say you could fucking die. You can’t be dead I wwon’t alloww it, it’s not fair. Come back here and call me a moron for crying for you I don’t care, I don’t care what you do I just want you here, I just need you here. Come back here right the fuck now Sollux Captor do you hear me?!” You’re screaming now, your voice cracking as you do and purple tears are streaming down your face. “You come right back here and start bitching at me with that obnoxious lisp because I need you alright? I’m so fucking black for you that I can’t stand it. Come back here, dying like that wasn’t fair, you’re not fair.” Your head falls and your next sentence is almost a whisper. “Come back here and at least let me say goodbye damn it. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

 


End file.
